


In For Me, In For You

by Udunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bonding, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: Stiles rarely had the luxury of letting his guard down nowadays. His life in the last two months - since he passed the magical 18 - had been spent in a constant state of panic.That’s what you get for being one of only two unclaimed Sparks in the good old US of A.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughingCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingCat/gifts).



> This is for the lovely, amazing and most of all very, very patient LaughingCat
> 
> My eternal gratitude to Emma, who keeps me in track <3

Stiles rarely had the luxury of letting his guard down nowadays. His life in the last two months - since he passed the magical 18 - had been spent in a constant state of panic.

That’s what you get for being one of only two unclaimed Sparks in the good old US of A.

Looking at Beacon Hills now, it would have been hard to believe that only ten percent of the general population was supernatural. Or well, it was supposed to be around that, but currently in Stiles’ humble opinion, it looked like at least half the town was super, and all of them were after him.

It was almost funny. If anyone told him his future two years ago, back when he had been a gangly, awkward teenager he not only would have laughed in their faces, but also probably would have gone on a research spree to figure out if there had been some outbreak from a mental institution.

One of the only safe places left for him was Doc Deaton’s clinic. The man was an emissary for the local pack, and the only person around with enough experience to teach him about his newfound abilities. 

Stiles had a feeling that the guy didn’t particularly like him - what with him constantly complaining about everything but barely getting an answer - but that was okay. It wasn’t like he could kick Stiles out.

“... anyway. I got, like, three- no wait,  _ four  _ flat screen TVs today. And someone left a Maserati on our driveway. With a bow. I have to tell you, dad was pretty fucking livid when he couldn’t get out of the garage…”

Doc Deaton just hummed, flipping through the old tomes that were the basis of their lessons.

Stiles hesitated for a second. He wasn’t sure he should be telling this stuff to people, but. He didn’t want to worry his dad anymore - the poor guy was already spending most of his free time on the front porch, cleaning his guns and glaring at everyone who dared to come up to the house. He had to tell someone though.

“And there’s this new guy? This Deucalion. Some bigshot Alpha from the east coast,” he started. The doctor might have heard the nerves in his voice, because he looked up at Stiles, waiting for him to continue.

“And I think he kind of… sort of threatened me? Or the town?”

“What did he say?” Deaton asked, looking as calm as ever, but Stiles didn’t miss the interest in his eyes.

He rubbed a hand over his hair, probably making it stick up every which way. Not like it mattered, people weren’t after him for his looks. Or his winning personality.

“Well. It’s… like, he didn’t  _ threaten-threaten  _ me, he just started going on and on about how he was wondering what political party he should donate to, and how he looked at local politics and that he did like Senator Shawk…”

Doctor Deaton raised an eyebrow. It was pretty well known that Shawk hated Stiles’ dad with a passion. He was the sort of repulsive republican who couldn’t give a fuck about anyone who wasn’t rich, white, able bodied and male. The guy had been preaching about how Beacon Hills should spend less on educational programs and health care and more on getting riot gear for the Sheriff Department… So yeah. It probably didn’t help that only about four people voted for him in the last election from the whole town.

“That’s unfortunate,” Deaton said, watching him closely. Stiles had no idea what he was expecting. “And what do you think about that?”

He huffed out a breath, feeling helpless.

“I’m thinking that the elections are coming in two months and if I don’t say yes to him, Beacon Hills will be in deep shit.”

Deaton nodded, and Stiles was grateful that he didn’t even try to placate him with empty reassurances. And now he wasn’t feeling so paranoid either, since the man obviously shared his worries.

After a moment of thinking Deaton put the books away.

“It is a tricky situation. Deucalion is very powerful and it’s not just his money talking… His pack is big and strong. In fact, I think he is one of the top three strongest Alphas on the continent.”

Stiles moaned, banging his head against the table. That was his conclusion too, but for once, he would have loved to be proven wrong.

“Great. So I’m fucked. Or we’re fucked. But I’m - personally - fucked either way.”

He couldn’t really explain it, but just being close to Deucalion sent a chill down his spine. It wasn’t anything tangible, just a… foreboding feeling. Like he was wrong somehow. Dangerous.

Deaton stroked his fingers over his short beard, deep in thought.

“I’ve told you about the Nemeton, haven’t I?” he asked. 

Stiles had no fucking idea where that line of thought came from, but he nodded. “Yup. Super stump in the woods. Very powerful, very dead.”

Deaton made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t correct him.

“Well, I think… I can’t be sure, of course, but if we had the Nemeton on our side, I think Deucalion wouldn’t look so invincible,” he said.

Stiles blinked at him in confusion. The best he knew, the Nemeton was sort of in a coma for the last few hundred years - ever since a wide-spread witch hunt back when the supernatural world came out from the shadows and proceeded to freak normal people right the fuck out.

“I can’t fuck a tree,” he said, not liking how unsure his voice sounded. Could he? He wasn’t sure he wanted to, even if it were possible. He could see that it would be a pretty unsatisfying relationship; as a Spark he had to bond to someone, and that bond had to be consummated.

Deaton actually had the gall to roll his eyes.

“Of course not. Not like that. But… Beacon Hills had been under the protection of the Nemeton since the beginning of time, and had been the territory of the Hales for just as long.”

Stiles felt his eyes wanting to pop out of his head. The Hales were… Not as big as they used to be. Actually there were only three of them now, and a few betas they picked up over the years. Like his buddy Scott, who would have died in the woods from an asthma attack if not for Derek finding him and giving him the bite.

“I’m not bonding with Derek.  _ Nuh-uh _ . No way,” he said. Sure, the guy was hot like burning, but he was also a surly, miserable sack of concentrated main-pain and Stiles would kill him before their first anniversary. Yeah, he had every right to be that way, but that didn’t mean Stiles wanted that for himself.

“What about Peter?” Deaton asked, his eyes a bit too keen for Stiles’ liking. He had no illusions that the man missed the way he swallowed.

Peter was… Yeah. Also hot. Definitely. Had the whole daddy thing going for him, and Stiles would have been a liar if he said he was immune to that, because  _ damn _ … But Peter was also aloof, sarcastic... a piece of shit really, if he wanted to be honest. And to Stiles’ misery, he showed zero interest in taking part in the pissing contest that became Stiles’ life in the last two months. Actually, he couldn’t even remember seeing him since he turned out to be a Spark. But all that aside…

“Peter is a beta,” he said finally, because one: it was the truth, and two: that was probably a safer objection than ‘he’s out of my league and sadly not interested in my sorry ass.’

Deaton raised an eyebrow, and for a second Stiles was sure that the doctor could read his thoughts, and knew exactly what was his real problem here.

In the end, the man just shrugged.

“Well, yes. But still. If you managed to bond with a Hale Alpha during a ritual to revitalize the Nemeton, I don’t think Deucalion wouldn’t stand a chance against the pair of you.”

Stiles groaned. Nice theory. It was a shame that it couldn’t happen.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Things didn’t ease up. If anything, they just got worse. Stiles didn’t know what to do about Deucalion. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do about any of this.

But the fact remained: he had to choose, and if things didn’t change - and fast - it wouldn’t really be a choice at all.

Deaton proved extremely unhelpful, shooting down all of his ideas from moving to Alaska, to making himself invisible. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t powerful enough to do that yet, but it was an option, right? The doctor just hummed and shook his head and told him to  _ wait _ .

Wait for what? That Stiles had no idea about. He wanted to talk to his father, or Scott at least, but neither of those were good options. His dad was already worried sick. Every morning when Stiles saw him, he looked just a bit older, like the fact that Stiles’ future was wrapped up so close to the supernatural, that they might never see each-other again kept eating away at him from the inside.

And Scott? Scott was a beta, and as one he didn’t have the right to ask Stiles for a bond - only an Alpha, or some other, equally powerful supernatural creature could - and what was more, every time they were seen together all his ‘suitors’ looked at Scott like they wanted to kill him for having Stiles’ attention, and he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t put his best friend in danger.

His life was sucked up by being holed up in his room or having lessons with Deaton. He almost missed the normality of high school, that’s how bad it was.

In the end - after he let his dad beat Deucalion’s invitations back six times in a single day - he had to give in and meet the man in the cafe on main street.

Deucalion looked incredibly out of place in the run-down little establishment. He had that douchbag aura that didn’t make him look overdressed, but made his surroundings look bad instead. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He liked this place, and he hated how every waitress looked so scared of the bigshot sitting at a table like he owned everything.

“Stiles, what a pleasure to finally see you again,” he said, standing and shaking his hand. It took a bit too long for him to release Stiles, and by the time he did his palms grew sweaty with nerves. 

“Yeah, sure. Hi.” 

He sat down, wanting to wave a waitress over, but Deucalion cleared his throat.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ve already ordered for you.”

Dear god. This was going to be his life now.

***

Deucalion was just telling him about how he will have to move to New York, and how he  _ might  _ let him go to university when the door opened with a quiet clink of the bell above it.

Stiles had to turn around to see who it was, he didn’t even know why he made the effort, but it was like his body was pulled that way. Maybe he just wanted to get away from this depressing conversation for a second.

The air stuck in his lungs when he saw who it was. Peter. Fucking. Hale.

Deucalion must have felt the shift in the air, because he stilled, watching Peter who walked up to the bar - casual as ever. Something changed. Stiles didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it.

“And who is that, darling?” Deucalion asked, the pet name making him want to retch.

Stiles swallowed, slowly turning back to face the man, realizing a bit too late that it might have been a mistake to stare at Peter like a lunatic who never saw a person before.

“Um. It’s nobody, really. You know. Just a guy. Walking into coffee shops and shit… Drinking coffee. As they do. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Deucalion raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak a word Peter was done with his order and heading back to the door with his cup in hand. Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

Peter passed them without a word and fucking  _ winked  _ at him.

***

To say that the meeting was disastrous, was an understatement. Well, no. He was pretty sure that Deucalion had the time of his life, laying out in painstaking detail how he will be ‘keeping’ Stiles, like he was some fucking cattle that needed a bell on his collar. Oh, he wrapped it into pretty words; how Stiles was going to have his own chauffer so he wouldn’t have to drive anywhere, how Deucalion would buy his clothes to the highest standard… How he would live in a gilded cage, basically.

It wasn’t that much fun for Stiles, especially since it was becoming clearer and clearer that he didn’t have any other choice. Nobody among his suitors was strong enough to challenge Deucalion. Not a single one. He double checked, okay?

Stiles was lying in his bed, thinking about how exactly he will break it to his dad that he will move to the other side of the country. His dad hated Deucalion on sight, and the Alpha didn’t look like he would be fond of regular visits either. Just the thought of that was enough to make him spiral dangerously close to a breakdown. He didn’t want to leave. Beacon Hills was his home. His dad was here, his friends were here… even his mom’s grave was here. He couldn’t just leave all of that behind…

He was riling himself up to a panic attack when he heard it; some sort of scratching from his window. Nowadays he kept his curtains closed - after he caught a strange Alpha buying the house next to them only to spy on his bedroom - so he didn’t see what it was, but he was ready to investigate.

Maybe it was an axe murderer. Honestly, at this point? Stiles would have welcomed that possibility with open arms.

Still, he picked up the baseball bat that Scott solemnly gave him when this whole thing started and slinked over, yanking the curtain away.

Peter Hale was grinning at him from the other side of the glass.

Stiles wasn’t proud of it, but he was pretty sure he gaped like a particularly unbecoming fish out of the water. The bat clattered out of his hand, and the sound was enough to jerk him into motion, opening the window without giving it any thought.

“Peter? What the… what the  _ hell  _ are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was breathless from the shock. Yeah. That’s right. From the  _ shock _ , okay?

“Well, hello there. It appears that you became the hottest bachelor in town, Stiles,” he said, like they were having a normal conversation in the bakery, and he wasn’t crouching on their roof in the middle of the night. 

“I… Peter. Seriously. What the fuck?”

This wasn’t normal. Not even for Peter, who admittedly lived to stir shit up. It wasn’t like they were even friends… Even after Scott became part of the pack, Stiles tried to keep his distance as much as he could, too terrified that the werewolves would be able to smell how hot he was for Peter. So yeah. This couldn’t have been a courtesy visit.

Peter didn’t reply, not right away at least. 

First he flashed his eyes on Stiles. His very red, very Alpha eyes.

Stiles was sort of worried that he would be stuck gaping for the rest of the night if Peter kept up this constant surprise shit.

Thankfully the werewolf took pity on him. He reached in, putting a hand on Stiles’ own, squeezing down on his fingers.

“What do you say, Stiles?” he asked, his smirk still going strong. “Want to come and fuck a tree?”

Stiles choked on a snort just as his bedroom door flew open, his dad standing in the doorway with his gun raised. It took him a few moments to lower it, even when he noticed that it was just Peter. Or well, maybe because of that.

“Son. What the hell is going on?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Stiles swallowed, looking between Peter and his father. His skin felt warm where Peter was still touching him.

“I’m eloping,” he said, voice cracking, and he honestly had no idea if it was with laughter or hysterics.

“Oh  _ damn _ ,” his dad said with a groan. “Hurry it up then. That Deucalion wants to pick you up at ten in the morning for  _ brunch _ .”

Stiles darted over to give him a quick hug and then climbed out the window, right into Peter’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

He was still a bit dazed when he got into Peter’s car, park in front of their house. It took him until they were turning the corner to finally get his tongue untied.

“Okay. First of all: Why the hell didn’t you come through the door like a normal person? And second. Did you actually kill someone? Oh my  _ god _ ! You had to kill someone, you’re an Alpha. What the hell did you do Peter? Tell me you don’t have a dead body in the trunk…”

Peter gave him an amused glance, speeding along the empty streets. 

“I wasn’t sure how your father was feeling about the situation, so the window seemed the best option. And don’t even try to deny it, it’s much more romantic,” he said.

Stiles had to snort.

“You just asked me five minutes ago if I wanted to fuck a  _ tree _ , that’s like, the complete opposite of romantic,” he said, but couldn’t fully keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. Whatever happened, this was possibly his only way out, and he was ready to grab his chance by the balls. Especially if that also included… well. Peter’s balls.

“And also,” Peter continued, like Stiles didn’t say anything, “This is a sports car, Stiles. I couldn’t fit a body in the trunk, even if I wanted to. But if you ask me, that’s just distasteful anyway.”

Stiles drummed his fingers against the door, biting his lips. This was really happening. He couldn’t believe it. But. That also meant that he had to get to the bottom of things if he wanted to avoid having to consummate their bond by frequent visits to the fucking jail.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked carefully. Growing up as the Sheriff’s kid meant that he was more-or-less up to date even on the more complicated laws concerning supernaturals. “You can’t legally challenge the Alpha of a pack that isn’t your own if you’re a beta, and I would like to believe that you didn’t kill your own nephew. Where did you even find an Alpha to kill? Everyone who came to town for me is way out of your league - no offence.” 

Peter frowned at the road ahead - they were driving out of town, and Stiles wasn’t even sure he wanted to know where they were going. To the Nemeton, probably.

“Harsh. But no, I didn’t break the law, if that’s what you want to know. In fact,  _ I _ was challenged by an Alpha. It happened near Mount Vernon actually. Very historical.”

Stiles looked at him with wide eyes, because there was a picture that was slowly building up in his brain and he didn’t know what to do with it. He did remember seeing Peter not long before his damned, let-me-ruin-you-life birthday. And he was confident that the Hales had no relations outside of California…

It seemed far-fetched, but the more he thought about it, the surer he became.

“Peter…” he couldn’t believe he was going to say this, his ears were already burning. “Did you… did you go on an epic road-trip with the sole purpose of annoying an Alpha into challenging you?”

Peter was quiet for a long moment. He turned on the radio and didn’t even look at him.

The silence stretched between them until they turned onto the road leading into the heart of the preserve.

“Honestly, I would rather call it  _ provocation _ . Yeah, that sounds much better. I  _ provoked  _ someone into challenging me.”

Stiles burst out laughing.

***

They parked the car at the remains of the old Hale house. There was nothing there anymore the city - with the remaining Hales permission - leveled the whole thing, and the small clearing was slowly taken back by the forest around it.

Despite no signs of the fire, Stiles still felt his giddiness evaporate.

They didn’t talk until they left the ruins behind and were safely between the trees. It was dark, the moon just a thin slice of cold light in the sky, barely visible through the shrouds.

It took Stiles approximately three minutes to trip over something and very nearly land on his face.

Peter grabbed his arm just in time, but the momentum still had Stiles stumble into him, and he couldn’t help but shiver when he felt the man’s huff of laughter against his hair.

“Uh… sorry.”

Peter hummed, letting him go, but keeping a hand on the small of his back. His hand was warm even though his shirt.

Stiles swallowed and kept walking, paying more attention now.

“So… How is this going to work? Everyone wants something. I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is a way better deal, but Deucalion had a shit-ton of specific conditions I would have had to meet if I bonded to him. And like, I hope you’re aware that I’m not into that stuff…” he said. It was stupid really, because this conversation should have happened before they were alone in the fucking preserve where nobody would find Stiles’ body for fucking weeks.

“Yeah, I heard some of that,” Peter said. He sounded airy and unconcerned, and Stiles didn’t know what to make of it. “And, as lovely as having you caged and collared would be, I have… simpler ambitions.”

Stiles tried to look at his face, but the darkness was too thick. All he could see were the white of his teeth when Peter grinned at him.

“Uh-huh. And what are those  _ simple  _ ambitions? Because let me tell you, nothing about you is simple.”

Peter made a sound that was as close to a purr as a werewolf could get.

“I will take that as a compliment. No. I admit, I do want power, that’s a given. Everybody does. But I’m not interested in abusing it. At the very least I think this could be a beneficial partnership for the both of us.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, even though the man couldn’t see it. Or maybe he could. He didn’t want to ask. That line of thought left him wondering, his belly doing flops, and he couldn’t decide if they were the result of nerves or excitement.

“And what could this be at most?”

He almost fell again when Peter leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Well, Stiles… whatever we make of it.”

***

He knew they reached the Nemeton even before they saw it; the air was full of energy, vibrating with it and making his skin light up with sensation. He didn’t know if Peter was feeling the same or not, but he did notice the hand on his back twitching once or twice.

Stiles have never been to the Nemeton before. Sure, he heard of it and after his birthday Deaton told him a lot, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t think he could have imagined it, the raw power filling the forest.

It made filled him with a sense of anxiety, and before he knew it, he was sweating, his hands shaking slightly. It did not get better when they finally reached it.

The stub was enormous and flat. For some reason Stiles couldn’t help but think about Arthur’s round table. Deaton said that had been a Nemeton too. Except there were no knights in shining armor here, just him and Peter and… Deaton?

“Hello Stiles,” the man said. It was lighter around the tree, the forest shying away from it’s power and the faint moon light seeming stronger somehow.

He stumbled to a stop, but Peter was right beside him, leading him forward.

“Um. What. I mean, hi. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. 

Deaton shrugged, face as unreadable as always.

“Your bond needs to be… strengthened by the Nemeton’s power if you want this land on your side. Unfortunately it’s a  _ tree _ . It has the magic, but it needs directions to do the job. And you won’t be in a position to direct it.”

Oh. Okay. So he had to fuck Peter. And a tree. With his sort-of-teacher watching.

Stiles was going to start hyperventilating any minute now.

Peter stepped in front of him, like he could sense his distress. He probably could, with his heart beating double and everything.

“Hey,” he said. He still sounded confident, but there was a note of concern in his voice that was almost unfamiliar. He didn’t think Peter had ever been concerned for anybody in his annoying life.

“Hey,” he replied shakily. 

“I’m not going to force you to do this. I mean, we can go back and act like this never happened, if you need more time, but…”

He didn’t say, but Stiles knew. Deucalion wouldn’t be patient for much longer. He would have to leave his father, his home. Himself, really. 

He couldn’t do that.

“No, I. I’m just nervous,” he admitted. Boy, understatement of the century.

Peter grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Well, I think I can help you with that,” he said.

Stiles’ breath caught as the man leaned in, but he didn’t try to get away. It was stupid, he’d been kind of fantasizing about kissing Peter since he’d been fucking sixteen. If nothing else, he should be enjoying it.

He closed his eyes as their lips touched, and let himself relax into it. Peter’s arms came up around him, smoothing over his body like he was a spooked horse and Stiles moaned, the sound stuck between their mouth and Peter’s tongue grabbing the chance to slide into his mouth, leaving him panting and dizzy.

Yeah, yeah, he was going to do this.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter pulled back slowly, and Stiles wasn’t proud of the way he kept chasing after his lips.

“Better?” the werewolf asked, though his hands were still on Stiles’ hips, keeping his doubts at bay.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

His lips were tingling, but the panic ebbed away, and that was more than he could ask for.

“Gentlemen,” Deaton put in, “I think we should do this while it’s still dark. I wouldn’t put it past Deucalion to have eyes on your house, and if he finds out you’re not there, we might be in trouble.”

Peter nodded and led him to the stump. The top of it was surprisingly even, with moss covering some of the cracks in the wood. It looked completely dead. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“Okay. Alright. So how are we doing this?” he asked to nobody in particular.

“I think it’s best to do it on top. It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,” Deaton said. He was still infuriatingly unreadable. Unlike Peter, who was close behind him again, and there was no way to mistake the bulge in his jeans.

“Is this your first time?” he asked, quiet enough that Stiles was the only one to hear. He nodded mutely, knowing that he should crack a joke about that, but his brain came up blank.

Peter paused for a moment, and then truly shocked Stiles with his next words.

“You still have time to back out of this, I can take you home, or take you to the Jungle if you want to get it out of the way without this hanging over your head,” he said, only sounding mildly like someone was pulling his teeth.

Stiles turned around to look at him, his mouth gaping. Because, what?

“Did you just… did you just attempt to be  _ selfless _ ? Is this an Alpha thing? Are you  _ dying _ ?” 

Peter refused to bite, and just looked at him steadily, his eyes reflecting the moon. Stiles swallowed.

“I… no. No, I’m good, I want this,” he said, trying to sound sure. He was  _ sure _ . He was just incredibly nervous and completely aware of the life altering consequences.

Peter cupped his face and leaned in to whisper against his lips.

“Good. Because I’ve been wanting you for myself way before you became a Spark.”

Stiles shuddered. It was hard to believe that, and he would have thought that the werewolf was just trying to butter him up, but there was no trace of insincerity in his voice.

“Ditto,” he murmured, closing the distance between them.

***

The air was cold on his skin as he undressed, turning his back on Deaton and trying to pretend that he wasn’t there. He had much more pleasant things to look at; namely, Peter Hale throwing off his clothes like he had no care in the world.

Despite the circumstances, he could feel his cock twitching as he watched the werewolf’s body appearing from under his layers. Damn. Peter was pretty fucking hot. Actually, he was hotter than Stiles imagined him to be, even though he didn’t think that was possible. Maybe it was because he wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. He was right there in the flesh, standing in front of him without a hint of shame.

Peter noticed him watching, because of course he did, and grinned, stepping up to Stiles and pressed their bodies together.

He knew werewolves ran hotter than humans, but feeling it against his naked skin was a whole different matter, and as soon as Peter started kissing his neck, his hands roaming along his spine Stiles was a goner.

He was completely hard by the time Peter was nibbling on his collarbones, leaving a tingling, wet trail along his skin. 

He couldn’t stop from moaning - just a bit, just a little - and he could feel the man smiling against him.

“There you are,” Peter murmured, walking him back until the back of his knees hit the Nemeton. He pushed Stiles down unhurriedly, like they had all the time in the world… Like this was more than a pact between the two of them and the land.

Stiles’s blood was singing, throbbing in his veins, and making his legs fall to the side easily, letting Peter find a place between them. The wood was rough along his back, but welcoming too, and he tried not to think about that. About why they were doing this here.

Peter kissed him again, hotter now, his tongue on a mission to pull more broken off groans out of him, to find every sensitive spot. Stiles loved every second of it.

The first touch of the man’s fingers between his asscheeks was a shock. Not unwelcome, but a shock all the same. Stiles wasn’t an idiot, okay? He knew why they were here, what he had to do… but to feel it was completely different matter.

Peter hushed him quietly.

“Just a second,” he said and then pulled something from thin air - a bottle. It took Stiles a second to realize that the werewolf wasn’t actually a wizard, just caught whatever Deaton thrown at him.

The snap of the plastic cap on the lube sounded unnatural this deep in the forest - this close to the heart of it - but Stiles didn’t have time to dwell on that, because the fingers at his hole returned, this time slick and insistent.

He sucked in a sharp breath when Peter started testing his resistance.

“Relax for me, darling,” the man said, and Stiles didn’t understand why his body replied with a pleased shudder to the pet name when it was filled with revulsion when Deucalion did the same.

He nodded, trying.

“That’s it, nice and easy. I will take care of you,” Peter promised and Stiles? God save him, but he believed it.

The first finger didn’t hurt, and neither did the second, just made his body buzz, but he did hiss when Peter worked the third in, careful but relentless. Maybe he would have tried to move away, if it wasn’t for the man constantly talking, telling him how good he was doing, how well he was taking it… It was heady. He always loved Peter’s voice and it sounded even more amazing this close, rough and intimate as it brushed against the shell of his ear.

“So good for me, darling. Just like that, only a little more…”

Stiles closed his eyes and forced his body to relax. It took embarrassingly little effort to let go of the tension and give over to the pleasure that was already building in the pit of his stomach.

He whined when Peter pulled back, his hands reaching up and grabbing the werewolf’s shoulders, like he was afraid that he would leave him like that; needy and desperate.

But Peter did no such thing. He lined his cock up with Stiles’ hole and then started pushing, making bright spots of  _ too much _ flare behind his eyelids.

“You are so beautiful, Stiles. Amazing. Amazing…”

It wasn’t painful exactly, but it burned, spreading a deep - almost pleasant - ache in his muscles as they surrendered to the intrusion, opening up and letting the man take whatever he had to give.

His arms tightened around Peter as the man started slowly rocking into him, feeling infinitely better when he planted his elbows beside Stiles, blanketing his body with his own.

He was warm and firm and… powerful. A part of him - selfish and dangerous - couldn’t wait to see how much more powerful he would become after, with both the Nemeton and his own magic coursing through him.

Stiles bit his lips as Peter bottomed out. It felt like he as touching the very core of him, filling him completely. Stiles didn’t want to think about it… About how it felt like they were made for each-other, fitting together perfectly.

Peter kissed him, coaxing his mouth open.

“Want to hear you, darling,” he said, pulling back and thrusting forward with glorious,  _ glorious  _ friction.

The man grinned when Stiles moaned, unable to keep the sounds from tumbling out of him now that he started and looked over to the other side of the Nemeton, his eyes flaring up bright red in the darkness.

“Alan, if you would,” he said.

It should have been sobering. He forgot about Deaton almost completely, but instead he shivered at the reminder that they weren’t alone. There wasn’t just another person watching. The forest was watching. The land itself was watching, waiting for a sign to join them.

He couldn’t see Deaton from where he was, didn’t want to look really, but he did notice when the air started thrumming around them, the wood under his shoulder blades growing warm and full of life.

The Nemeton was awake.


	5. Chapter 5

For a blessed few minutes he thought that would be it; just the gentle hum of magic too old to name blanketing them as Peter kept fucking into him, deep and even. But he should have known by now that nothing could be so simple in his life.

Peter was holding his hands, twining their fingers together and it took him a moment to notice when something else joined them too. Stiles turned his head slowly, too dizzy with the heat building between them to be panicked, and sucked in a sharp breath when he noticed thin, pale green tendrils breaking out of the cracks of the stump, entwining their hands, joining their hold.

“It’s okay, darling, nobody wants to hurt you here,” Peter told him, his sensitive ears probably picking up on the way his heart sped up from the sight. Stiles swallowed, forcing himself to look away from the tendrils, and the werewolf took that moment to circle his hips on the next thrust, sending his eyes rolling back to his head.

Fuck. He never thought it would be this good, and a part of him wondered if it was only because of what they were doing - bonding as a Spark and an Alpha… 

He didn’t have time to think about it, not with Peter keeping at it, pushing moans out of his mouth and all his doubts out of his head. Stiles bit his lips, straining against the hold on his hands a bit; it wasn’t cutting off his circulation, but he could feel the intent there, that he - that they - should stay put and finish what they’ve started. Not like he had any problem with that.

Peter cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering and the next second Stiles realized why. There were more of the sprouts. He couldn’t see from where he was lying, but they were at his ass, and he had a feeling that they were brushing up against the insides of Peter’s thighs on the way. 

“What…” he didn’t know what this was supposed to mean. Where they going to…?

He got his reply when one of the tendrils ran along the rim of his hole, right where Peter was pounding into him. He couldn’t have put it into words, but he could feel  _ want  _ behind the touch and he wasn’t sure if he could take it.

“Calm down, the both of you,” Deaton said, his voice cool and collected as always. It made Stiles’ eyes snap open, only to see that Peter was in beta shift, his eyes blazing bright.

“Nobody is challenging your claim, Peter, don’t be a child,” Deaton added, the eye-roll almost audible.

Stiles had to snort, despite how anxious he was, and the sound of it was enough to pull the werewolf out of his rage.

“You okay, darling?” he asked, growling from behind his retreating canines.

“Yeah… ah…  _ peachy _ .”

He squeezed his eyes shut when that little sprout-tentacle-thingy breached him. It was as thick as a finger and added a - not entire unpleasant - layer of extra pressure.

“Shit,” Peter said, letting his head fall down beside Stiles’. Their cheeks were pressed together, feeling hot.

“Yeah,” Stiles moaned. Then he jerked, because another one of those things was right there, rubbing his hole, smearing the lube around and just… playing. It was maddening - too much and not enough at the same time.

“How much longer?” Peter asked, and for a second Stiles thought it was directed at him and seriously? How was he supposed to know? He lost the ability to think coherently the time his back hit the Nemeton. Then Deaton answered. Oh. Yeah, that made more sense.

“Depends on you,” the man said. Stiles couldn’t tell if he was affected at all. What was he doing here again?

“Then stop fucking playing around,” Peter growled, his voice resonating along Stiles’ jaw.

Deanton huffed out a breath and then the tentacle was wiggling inside him without further teasing, joining the other one. They… they twined around Peter’s cock, giving it texture and girth that had Stiles lose track of reality.

Peter’s hips snapped forward so hard that it made his back skid against the wood. That would probably hurt tomorrow, but right now and right here he couldn’t have cared less.

Something else was happening. Actually, multiple somethings. It took him a second to figure them out, what with his senses being completely overwhelmed by basically everything.

One, Peter’s cock was doing a thing. A thing, where it was steadily growing bigger, despite the fact that he was pretty well endowed right from the start. Stiles thought that it might be the Nemeton’s doing… Then realized that he was being fucked out of his mind by a damned Alpha werewolf, and it clicked. Knot. Knot action was happening. He probably should have thought about that sooner, but his usual Peter-themed fantasies didn’t involve those, since until just a while ago the man had been a beta. Well, fuck.

Two, the little saplings were going into overdrive. Thankfully no more of them tried to get into his ass, but everywhere else? Seemed fair play. A couple were sliding up the crease of his thighs, making him shiver and then lose his breath when they wrapped around his poor, neglected cock. One of them teased under the rim of his cockhead, the other circling one of his balls and then made its way up to rub the tip against his piss hole.

Stiles might have made a sound that wasn’t exactly human.

He could feel the ones in his ass wiggling too, they kept twitching, and he imagined they were squeezing down around Peter’s cock while rubbing up against his inside… It felt a bit weird, right up until they managed to bump into his prostate.

Stiles’ back arched, his cock hurting from the need to come, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because the fucking things were tight around his dick, stopping his pleasure in its tracks and make it build impossible higher.

He was going to  _ die _ , okay?

“Peter… Peter, I can’t…”

The werewolf fucking whined, turning his head to mouth on the side of his neck,and that wasn’t helping with his oncoming aneurism, thank you.

“Shh, you’re fine… just. Just a bit more, darling. It won’t -  _ fuck  _ \- it won’t let you come before me…”

Stiles moaned, feeling a couple of tears escape the corner of his eyes. He was going to go mad, his brain cooked in the pleasure that just kept on gathering until it would swallow him whole.

“I… what. What do I do?” he asked, voice barely more than a scratchy whisper. Peter licked at his skin and then nibbled at it. Asshole.

He didn’t get a reply, the werewolf lost in his own head, but his hips never stopped, hammering forward like he couldn’t have halted them if he tried. Maybe that was exactly the case.

“Try squeezing down, he will be done sooner that way,” Deaton offered, when it became apparent that Peter was past the whole human speech thing. Stiles might have imagined it, but the emissary sounded a bit out of breath too.

It seemed like an incredibly bad idea. But he had nothing to lose at this point, other than spontaneously combusting from a withheld orgasm.

Stiles forced his muscles to work, to constrict around the hardness moving in him

It did the trick. Maybe a bit too well, to be honest, because suddenly Peter was growling, his knot growing fast and getting stuck in his hole, making him see stars. Shit. Shit, he was so full. He thought it should be hurting. It felt like that should be a thing that should be happening with a huge knot lodged inside him, but instead there was only a burning heat and a stretch that set his insides on fire.

His legs twitched, closing in around Peter’s hips, keeping him in place, not like he was going anywhere, but it felt like he had to do something… The tentacles twined around his cock moved, slow and easy, rubbing and rubbing, the one teasing his slit starting to fuck him, just shallow dips that sent his heartbeat through the roof.

Peter kept growling, low and animalistic, but he wasn’t afraid. In any other situation, having a snarling Alpha werewolf munching on his neck like he was made of candy would have been alarming, but not now. Not with Peter.

The first shot of come inside him was like a dam being broken. The low, magical buzzing of the Nemeton around them grew higher, louder, until it filled the air, and he could feel it weighing down on his skin like static electricity. The sprouts all over his body jerked as one and then lurched into motion, rubbing and squeezing down, gripping at him, at Peter’s knot, milking it dry.

The tentacle fucking his cock withdrew at the same time, tapping the head of his dick once… twice… and then he was come, coming like he never did before.

Through the waves of pleasure washing over him, Stiles could feel the power around them surging high - over the top of trees - only to slam into them with full force.

Peter roared, his back arching. His eyes glowed red, but for only a second there was a bright, green ring around them and Stiles could feel his own doing the same.

It was done.

***

Beacon Hills felt different in the morning, like the whole town had been replaced overnight. Stiles could… he could see things he never did before.

There was a curse on Mr. Bimly’s house, and there was a dark spot near the supermarket he would have to do something about. Other places, like the statue of an angel near the cemetery was bright, the air shining around it in a halo. He could remember how his mom loved that statue…

Peter was driving lazily, one hand on the wheel, the other on Stiles’ thigh. He could feel it too, the need to stay connected. He didn’t know how long it would last, but a part of him hoped it would never fade.

Maybe they shouldn’t have dropped Deaton off at his place, because by the time they got back to his house Deucalion - and his douchey limo  - were already parked in front with the Alpha arguing with his dad in the door. Stiles frowned. 

Peter pulled up to the curve, cool and collected, giving him a wink.

“Show time.”

Stiles got out, not even needing to look to know that Peter was right behind him.

“Hey, leave him alone, asshole,” he said, feeling more bravado than he thought he was capable off.

Deucalion’s face was priceless as he turned around, freezing when he finally sensed the sheer power surrounding them. 

“I thought we had an agreement,” he said, quickly composing himself. There was a threat in his voice, thinly veiled. “And here you are, whoring yourself out to a mediocre Alpha who isn’t even used to his own power yet… You think he will be able to protect you?”

Peter snorted, stopping behind Stiles and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Oh, as much as I would love to kick your posh ass, I’m not the one you should be worried about,” Peter said, possibly giddy.

Stiles felt his eyes flare bright green, the tip of his fingers cracking with magic. He smiled.

“Get out of my town.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


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